


The Fairy Tale of Slytherin

by maryfic



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For every prince, there should be a princess, no?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This part is all author's notes and warnings and spoilers.

I started writing this story between reading Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince, so please take note. 

Warnings: Slash (later in the story). This fic is really Willow and Draco’s story, so there will not be a whole lot of ‘Boy Who Lived When Voldemort Killed His Parents’ in here. But yes, Sirius is still Harry’s godfather and is currently in Azkaban. If you don’t like that, this is not the fic you need to be reading. 

Spoilers: Minor, *very* minor spoilage for both BtVS and HP. Not really anything to be worried about. Explained further in the Author Notes.

 

A/N: Willow and Xander the younger, and Giles, but not how the show portrays him; are really the only things from BtVS that are going to mentioned here. Also her adoptive parents. Fully in the Hogwarts world after chapter one. As for HP, you need to have read all the books including OotP, but not HBP, but again, it is mostly AU. Way, way AU. 

A/N 2: Willow and Draco have suspended their disbelief for this story, mostly so they could get smoochies, I ask that you do the same. 

A/N 3: For this fic, all interested parties were born in 1981. That means Willow, Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Willow’s is 7/23/81, Draco’s is 2/15/81, Harry’s 7/31/81, Ron’s 5/3/81, and Hermione rounds it out with 9/4/81. Snape is approximately 38, and Sirius is 39. Younger than the books and movies make them, I think, but it suits me nicely.

A/N 4: In my world, Willow entered into sixth grade, along with Xander, when she was ten. He was eleven. She’s a smart cookie. 

A/N 5: Yes, please DO NOT comment on the whole “Willow and Draco are too closely related to be lovers” issue, please, please. I understand the way the wizarding world works in the series, and I understand some people may not be cool with this. But please, if you’ve gotten this far, deal.


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This snippet rated G.

When she was five, they’d been dating. Then he stole her Barbie, and she’d been mad at him, so they broke up. 

When she was ten and he eleven, after ‘graduating’ from elementary school, they'd kissed, a slow, fumbling meeting of lips that occurred as they were in the back of her parent’s car on the way to sleep away camp for the summer. Willow was maturing at a faster rate than the other girls in her class, mentally, anyway; and Xander had just come to realize that girls were not evil and cootie ridden. Cordelia was his exception. 

At the end of the summer it was mutually agreed that whatever they felt for each other, it wasn't mushy middle school relationship type feelings, and had broken up again. 

The summer of her eleventh birthday, a letter had come in the mail that would change both their lives forever.


	3. Owls and Toads and Magic, oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG. 
> 
> Dates: August 1st, 1992 and August 31st, 1992

_August 1st_

Willow was sitting in the kitchen, eating Pop-Tarts and whipped cream for breakfast, knowing that in a few seconds her very best friend would come in and steal one of them, and things were back to normal. Last summer had been a little strange, what with the tiny amount of kissing and hand-holding they’d done at camp leading to a very unpleasant conversation at the end of camp bonfire, wherein they both said this is weird, we have to stop, I don’t like you this way. But now, after a whole school year and most of a summer of normality, she had her best Xander friend back where he belonged. In her heart, but not that way. 

“Wills!” 

She jumped up from the table at the sound of his voice, a little freaked out, but something was more than off about it. Willow ran into the living room, forgotten breakfast still in her hand, somehow not dripping all over the carpet. 

Her eyes widened at what she saw. One owl, a *huge* owl, and they didn't come out in daylight, did they? And so not the point here. Xander was trying not to cower as it swooped around the room and finally landed on a table with a firm glare at her, dropping the thick envelope it held at her feet, before rushing back out the window through which it had apparently gotten in. 

“Willow? Xander, what’s wrong?” Sheila Rosenberg came down the stairs to find both her daughter and a boy she considered a son to her standing stock still in the middle of the living room, eyes locked on the envelope now on the coffee table. Before she could figure out what was wrong, her eyes snapped to the now about to drop a large amount of whipped cream onto her carpet Pop Tart and said, “Willow! Don’t let that fall!” 

Willow’s eyes flicked to her hand and she quickly shoved the rest of the breakfast tart into her mouth, successfully avoiding the drip, but earning her a roll of the eyes from her mother. 

“What just happened in here?” Sheila asked, walking over to the coffee table. “And what’s…oh my god. Oh my god. Ira!” she screamed, snatching the letter up and flipping it over to see the Hogwarts crest on it, then turning it in her hands and seeing the address on the front. 

_Miss Willow Rosenberg_  
The Kitchen  
17 Hartfield Place  
Sunnydale, California, USA

Willow’s dad came running downstairs at his wife’s panicked yell, tie flapping loosely around his neck. “Good morning, Xander,” he managed before he was at her side. “What is that?” he asked, already knowing what it was.

“It’s Willow’s letter!” Sheila told him happily, smiling at her daughter like she’d just won the Nobel Prize. Willow and Xander *still* had no idea what was going on, so they’d moved to the couch to watch the grown-ups wig out and mutter between themselves before bringing the focus back to them. 

“Willow, you’re going to Hogwarts!” 

“Um, I hate to break up the happy family moment here, but what’s a hogwarts?” Xander asked. 

“Um, it’s a…” here Sheila and Ira both faltered, not knowing whether or not to let their daughter’s best Muggle friend in on something like this. 

“Mom, Dad, you can tell Xander,” Willow said impatiently, all this had to do with *her* after all, not that she was getting the attention here. “You know I’d tell him anyway. Besides, he already knows that I’m different.” 

“Oh.” Both her parents seemed a little stunned at the fact that Willow had figured out that she was different, despite their best efforts; then a surge of immense pride overwhelmed the insignificant stunned feeling. 

“Willow, Xander,” Ira began. “Hogwarts is a school of magic, for witches and wizards. Like us. Like you, Willow.” 

“I told you!” Xander said, exuberant in his being proved right. He knew Willow was witchy, even if half the kids at Sunnydale Elementary were afraid to call her that to her face. 

“And you were right,” Sheila said, picking up the explanation. “You’ve been accepted, Willow, which is a very rare thing for stateside magic users, except your name has been on the list from the moment of your birth, even beforehand, if I know Albus Dumbledore.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“He’s the headmaster, Xander, like a principal here. They call them headmasters over there.” 

“Over there, where?” Willow said slowly, her sharp mind putting pieces of the puzzle together that hadn’t even been brought out of the box. Over there, school, accepted. “I’m going away to school! That is so cool! And to lean magic! Isn’t that great, Xand?”

“Yeah, Wills, but,” Xander’s face had fallen into that Kicked Puppy Losing His Best Friend In The Whole World™ expression, and Willow knew what it meant, and after ten years of him in her life, knew how to make it go away. 

“But nothing, Alexander Harris. You can come visit me, and when I come home I can show you all kinds of cool magic tricks. You’ll still be my best friend and nothing will ever change that.” 

Sheila exchanged a smile with her husband. So bright, so grown-up, their little girl. 

“I know. And I am happy for you. Officially. I bet I could even spell that word,” Xander joked. “And all because of you.” 

“So we wanna hear more about Hogwarts,” Willow said, turning to her parents after hugging Xander for all she was worth and grabbing one of his hands with hers, because that was still okay, that was still allowed in their friendship. 

And so the parents that Xander called his second mom and dad, and Willow called mom and dad but weren't actually hers either, but she didn't know that; explained to the kids everything they knew about the wizarding world. 

 

 _August 31st_

Willow was excited. There was no denying it, really. She’d said her goodbye to Xander, and Jesse, and gotten on a plane bound for England two weeks ago with her parents, and now they were in the middle of the wizarding world, actually steeped in it. Diagon Alley was a place where Muggles couldn’t go, you had to be a witch or wizard to get in. 

And boy, was she ever a witch. An honest to god witch, with an actual wand, and robes, and an owl of her very own. And wizard money, strange coins that clinked and jangled at her side as they walked toward the alley that gave one access to the wizarding world, behind the Leaky Cauldron, where she and her parents were staying until the train for Hogwarts left tomorrow morning. 

She was going to a school for witches, and they’d done all of her school shopping and had the packages magically sent back to their rooms, and she’d get to pack a trunk tonight, her trunk, not like a camp trunk that she’d had last summer, but a *school* trunk, cause Hogwarts was a boarding school. 

“Are you alright, Willow?” her dad asked as they stepped through the magical wall into the surprisingly clean alley. Guess she’d been all babbling in her thoughts again. 

“Oh, yeah, daddy, I’m fine. Just thinking about school, is all.” Willow smiled at her father, slowly having gotten used to the idea that yes, both he and her mother were a wizard and witch, respectively; and they’d gone to Hogwarts before her. Her mother had been in Ravenclaw house, and her dad had been a Gryffindor. There were four houses, and she wanted to be in Gryffindor, because that was her dad’s house, and she was daddy’s little girl. Plus, they sounded cool, brave and daring, like knights of old. 

But something about Slytherin called to her, too, her intelligent mind, and the way they didn’t let anyone step on them like Willow sometimes did. See one Cordelia Chase, Princess of Sunnydale. For once, thinking of that mean girl didn’t make Willow upset, it just made her glad she was going away to school, and would only have to see her in the summer. That, and maintain her current position as president of the We Hate Cordelia club, of which Xander held vice-presidency, and Jesse their treasurer. 

While she’d been babbling in her head again, they had made it upstairs, and Willow’s mom broke into her thoughts. 

“Willow, honey, could you come into the living room for just a minute, please? Your father and I want to talk to you.” 

“Sure.” Willow agreed, following her mom into the small living area of their rooms where her dad was already sitting on one end of the battered sofa. He beckoned for Willow to sit next to him, and Sheila pulled another chair in front of them. Uh-oh. Willow Anne Rosenberg knew those faces. She was either in a serious amount of trouble, or this was a Talk. Like the one they’d had when Willow had gotten her period earlier in the summer, or the one where they both sat her down to talk about bullying, and why she had finally snapped one day in school and slapped Little Miss Princess a few very satisfying times. Equal opportunity parenting, here. “What’s going on, mom? Dad?” 

“Willow, honey, we love you very much. You know that, right?” Sheila reached forward and grasped Willow’s hands in her own. 

“Yeah, but you’re starting to scare me here.” Willow said, a little quiver in her voice already. 

“Honey, you’re adopted.” Her dad tried to break the news to her gently, but he was a forthright man, and there really was no way to make this easier on any of them. 

The little quiver in Willow’s voice suddenly rocketed into the red zone, and she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and barely feeling the comforting hands of her parents, no wait, her adoptive parents, trying to soothe her. 

It went on for hours, it seemed to Willow, stuck in a place where her world was torn apart in the space of two heartbeats, and consisted of nothing but tears and hurt, and oh god it hurt, why did it hurt so much, her parents were still here, the two who’d loved her and cared for her since birth trying to comfort her, but she didn't want their comfort, she didn’t want anything more from them at all. In reality, it was only a few long, endless minutes before her tears slowed and finally stopped, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief her father handed her, he’d kept one in his pocket for longer than she could remember. 

“Willow?” her mother’s voice came to her, not her biological mother, but her *real* mother, the one who had rocked her to sleep as a baby, and read her Winnie-The-Pooh at night, even when she was old enough to read them herself, and blew up when she found Willow scanning a copy of the Feminine Mystique at the tender age of eight. This was her mother, no matter what anyone else said. 

“Mommy?” Her voice sounded unfamiliar, young and scared, and Willow launched herself into those reaching arms, taking the comfort and shelter they offered, and feeling her dad hug her from behind, she lost herself in that security, holding onto it with all her might, because they *were* her parents, in the truest sense of the word. Even if they weren’t, Willow wanted to hold onto the illusion as long as she could, before it burst like a bubble on a windy summer day.


	4. Hogwarts Express, Leaving From Platform 9 ¾’s, King’s Cross, 11 a.m., sharp >>> Welcome to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13 for language and schmoopy Draco. I told you it was going to be AU, but I think Draco has some schmoop in him. 
> 
> Date: September 1st
> 
> This is a pretty long chapter, for me.

_September 1st_

Willow wasn’t okay with this. Not the going away to school, but the dealing with her not-parents, who had loved and cared for her all of her life, and the news that they were not her parents. But she was trying, and that was really all they’d asked. 

She’d asked a whole lot more than that, oh yes, she had. She had many questions, like who her real parents were, and why they’d given her up. But they’d gone all cryptic on her, and clammed up, saying something to the effect that now really wasn’t the time to tell her that. Oh, but telling her *right* before she left for school in a foreign country that she was adopted was. That made a sense that didn’t. 

But now it was ten minutes until eleven, and they were standing in a crowd of children and parents between platforms nine and ten. She knew how to get onto Platform 9 and ¾’s, she’d known how before they even got on the plane. So it was time. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at Christmas,” Willow said awkwardly. She hugged them both and stepped back, one hand holding onto her cart, which was loaded down with her trunk and the cage her owl, Beatrice, was in. Her backpack was slung over her shoulders, and she was ready. 

“Well, you might –“ Ira was stopped by his wife’s elbow in his ribs, and finished whatever he was going to say differently. “Would you like us to go with you, Willow?” 

“No, I got it. Thanks.” Willow saw her mother about to object, and tightened her backpack straps. “I’m good. Bye.” She turned and headed for the wall, waiting her turn as twin redheads went through, followed by another redhead around her age, and a black-haired boy who looked about the same as she figured she did right now. Scared, but determined. And Willow knew that the way she left hurt her parents, but some small, deep, hidden part of her liked that, wanted them to be hurt the same way they hurt her last night, and she thought nothing more of it. 

“Here goes nothing,” she murmured, and ran toward the barrier, closing her eyes at the last second just in case by some fluke of fate her head got bashed in, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief as she came through, the Hogwarts Express steaming dark red in front of her. 

Students were milling around her, getting on the train, off the train, saying goodbye to their families, calling to friends, and for a second it all overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes again and breathed. 

“Why don’t you let us help you with that?” A smooth, cultured, almost smarmy voice reached her ears, and Willow knew that voice. She’d heard it in Diagon Alley, at the robe shop. And she was right, when she opened her eyes, there was that same, sleek, blond boy she met while they were being measured. Willow searched her mind for the name and came up with it. “Draco,” she said, and her voice was happy, a true happiness for the first time since last night. 

“And you’re Willow. Come on, you can sit with us. Crabbe, Goyle, get her things and take them to our compartment.” Draco put a hand on her elbow and she completely missed the scathing looks the redheads beside her shot them as he led them both onto the train, Crabbe and Goyle following like trained dogs with her things. 

Willow smiled, this boy commanded like he was born for it, and she liked that. The redhead knew in her soul he would chew Miss Princess of Sunnydale up and spit her out, and then ask Willow if she’d like to go to dinner. She liked that, too. Draco barely knew her, and already she felt like a princess. Willow could definitely get to like this feeling. 

“Alright,” she replied, but they were already on the train, and her agreement has already been given, signed, sealed and delivered to this pale boy, a prince in the wrong era. 

Suddenly they were in the, in their compartment, her trunk was above them, her owl on the other side of her, Draco sitting next to the window, Crabbe and Goyle like silent statues across the way. And the train was moving, starting with jerks and a loud screaming whistle and she gasped involuntarily. 

“You’re not scared, are you?” Draco asked her, and she shook her head, knowing the right answer immediately. 

“No, I’ve just never been on a train before. Plane, yes. Train, not so much.” 

He laughed, and it was like silver, sharp, but something to protect you, not injure, though Willow understood instinctively that it could, it could slice her up like so much meat, but she wasn't afraid. 

“I’ve never been on a plane before. Mostly broomstick, a few Portkeys. Those really are a bitch the first few times.” 

This time she laughed, at the swear word coming from that perfect, angelic, devilish mouth. “What are Portkeys?” She knew what brooms were, but no one had told her about Portkeys. 

Suddenly the compartment grew cold, and Draco turned to face her. “Are you a mudblood?” he asked, and there was venom in his tone now. 

“No, I don’t know what that is, but no I am not.” Shock and displeasure laced her tone, the very idea of her being something so nasty sounding. 

“I mean, are both your parents wizards?” His eyes narrowed, and the friendly gleam in them before was almost completely gone now, not totally, like he wanted to believe she’s not whatever he called her, but was afraid to. 

“Yes, they are. Both my adopted parents and my real ones, whoever they are.” 

Draco relaxed, and smiled. “Sorry, it’s just…a bit of prejudice, I suppose. I’m only supposed to associate with purebloods, kids whose parents are both wizards. It’s not you.” 

“It’s okay,” Willow said, and forgave him instantly. Obviously mudblood was some type of wizarding insult. “A family, thing, huh? I understand that.” 

“You do?” For an instant, there was a softness in Draco’s face, a child that hadn’t been there a moment before, then it was gone, and it was back to the regularly scheduled hardness that an eleven year old boy shouldn’t know. “Good. So, what house do you think you’ll get? I’m going to be in Slytherin, all the Malfoys are.” The last was said with more than a bit of familial pride, and Willow’s heart compressed painfully. She’d like to have a little family pride. 

“Well, I don’t really know, I mean, my adopted parents were in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw,” and yes, she caught the shudder on his face when she said Gryffindor, “but me, I’m hoping for Slytherin too.” Her eyes lit up at his expression, happy that his new friend just might be a housemate too, and pride that he’d pegged her so well. 

Take *that*, Cordelia ‘I’m better than everyone cause I’m rich’ Chase. Willow grinned back at him. 

The rest of the trip was spent in fine fashion, Draco filling Willow in on what her parents hadn’t told her about the wizarding world, and introducing her to various acquaintances that stopped by their compartment, and treating her to lunch when the food trolley came around. 

When the train stopped in Hogsmeade, they all got out together. “Don’t worry about your trunk, they send it up to the castle. Just grab Beatrice there, and we’ll get to the boats.” Malfoy’s eagle owl flew ahead of them, and on impulse, Willow opened Beatrice’s cage and let her fly too. She’d been confined all day just like the rest of them, and deserved it. Draco had told her they would find each other later, after the Sorting and the feast. 

A huge man was calling for all the first years to gather in front of him, and Willow stepped back a pace, dragging Draco with her. “Who the heck is that?” she said. 

“I’ve really no idea, but I guess he’s the one taking us across the lake.” Draco replied, gripping her hand and bringing her forward, albeit reluctantly. 

“He’s…he’s huge…and kind of ugly.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as they approached the gathering crowd. 

Draco laughed. “There are uglier things in the wizarding world, but he definitely ranks up there somewhere. I think he’s a giant.” 

They had to stop talking as the giant man told them to get into the magically powered boats that would take them across the lake, and for god’s sake, keep their appendages out of the water because the giant squid was peckish earlier. 

Willow, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle commandeered one of the boats and when all the first years were safely in, the giant, whose name was Hagrid, apparently, what kind of a name was that? tapped something on his own boat and they all skimmed across the water. 

Halfway across, a tentacle snaked out of the water and slid across Willow’s hand, and she shrieked. Loudly. Heads turned, and a deep booming voice called out. 

“Alrigh’ back there?” 

“Yes, yes, we’re fine,” Draco shouted. “The squid likes her, I think.” Willow blushed and smacked his arm. Laughter bubbled over their heads as the other students chuckled at his joke. 

“Don’t, Draco.” Willow was embarrassed and could feel the heat rising in her face. “I hate it when people laugh at me.” She dropped her head down and let her red hair make a curtain in front of her face, which parted immediately. 

“I’m sorry, Willow. It was just a joke. I won’t say anything else about your torrid romance with the giant squid, alright?” His bright grey eyes and laughing expression shook her out of it, and she managed to crack a smile. 

“I accept your apologies, Mr. Malfoy.” Willow looked up at him, finally, and chuckled at his expression. “It’s ok, Draco. Just some bad memories from back home. There was this girl, who was, well, kind of a bitch.” And, strangely enough, she wasn't really shocked that she cursed. Cordelia really, really deserved that title. 

“Then, as your prince, I shall go to Sunnydale and defend your honor.” Draco smiled at her, and Willow didn’t know how suddenly this had gone from a laughing conversation between two almost friends, into something out of the middle ages, but she could definitely roll with it. Unfortunately, they were at the edge of the lake, and among the last boats to empty. So it could be changed, just a little. 

“You can fight the evil-Cordelia monster later. Will you walk me up to the castle, for now?” Willow took the offered arm, and left the cage for Crabbe and Goyle to get and drop in the mound of luggage in the front hall. 

When they reached the top of the steps, a forbidding looking woman was at the top of the stairs waiting for them. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Professor McGonagall, I am head of Gryffindor House and the Transfiguration teacher. In a moment, you will enter the Great Hall and be sorted. It would be nice if you could all manage to be silent throughout this process. When your house is announced, you will go and sit at that table. That is all.” 

Willow squeezed Draco’s hand excitedly, and he squeezed back as they grinned at each other. This was it, she thought, as Professor McGonagall led them through the tall doors and down the center of an immense room, between four tables, two on the left, two on the right, which Willow assumed were the house tables. 

It was a really good thing that her last name started with R, because now she could concentrate on all of the totally cool things around her, the bold colors of each of the houses, the other professors up on a plateau at their own table, the massive amount of students in the room; but what really attracted her attention was the ceiling, apparently magicked to looked like the sky outside, currently a deep purple and blue twilight. 

Willow managed to concentrate long enough for Draco’s sorting. The hat was barely on his blond head before it shouted “Slytherin” and she cheered, catching his eye with a huge grin as he headed off to the Slytherin table, which she took careful account of, seeing as her sorting was *eep* now, what happened to all the kids between M and R? She hadn’t lost time, had she? 

She climbed up the steps and caught Draco’s eye again. He arched his eyebrow at her and patted the seat next to him, indicating that he was saving it for her. 

The hat came down around her head, and she managed not to jump at its words in her head.

“Oh, my. I’ve been waiting for you, Miss Black. The first child from the only Gryffindor/Slytherin match in centuries.” 

Miss Black? What? Her last name was…

“Rosenberg? Oh, well, yes, let’s just get on with it, shall we? No need to dwell, after all. Now where do I put you, usually you’d go in your parents house, but since they, as are you, obviously divided, let me take another look around in here and see what I can see.” 

No need, Willow thought. Not very divided, here. I’m a Slytherin girl. She smiled happily at Draco and raised her hands to remove the hat, but they stopped at the hat’s panicked voice. 

“No, wait, I have to announce it first, silly girl.” 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

Willow took the hat off her head and walked over to the now standing house table, and she immediately knew why, going over and taking her place next to Draco. He’d told them all to stand and cheer, and infinitely embarrass her. Again. Bad Draco. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” she whispered mock angrily to Draco, before turning and meeting a few other of her housemates as they greeted her. 

“Sorry,” he replied, obviously meaning it only partially. 

The Hall grew silent as the sorting finished, no more new Slytherins, but there were a handful of Gryffindors, including the redhead that she’d noticed earlier. The redhead seemed to have other supporters in his house, three others that had to be his brothers, and the black-haired boy he’d gone through the barrier with. 

The Hall stilled as the man with the long white beard in the center of the staff table rose. 

“That’s Professor Dumbledore,” Draco whispered in her ear, and Willow nodded. The headmaster. 

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. To our old hands, welcome back, and to our new ones, welcome. I have a few announcements,” the entire student population groaned quietly, and he chuckled. “Only a few this year, I promise upon punishment of having to eat something the Weasley twins’ made.” The mentioned twins waved at Dumbledore, trying to look innocent and obviously failing. They were the two redheads that she’d noticed earlier, glaring at her and Draco. But this was not the time to dwell, Dumbledore was talking again. 

“Students are *all* to take note that the Forbidden Forest is off limits, as is the village of Hogsmeade to those below third year. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that certain things are not allowed in the hallways, Fanged Frisbees, Biting Yo-yos, and other things of that nature. The full list comprises some three hundred items, and it can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office. I will take this time to say that you are not allowed to use magic in the corridors, no matter how late you are for Potions.” 

The students broke up into laughter, was the Potions teacher a real jerk or something? Willow turned to Draco to see if he could enlighten her when she noticed two things. One, the students at her table weren’t laughing, and two, a black haired man with a larger than average nose was staring down at every table except theirs with an icy glare while Dumbledore waited for them to calm down. 

“Professor Snape is our head of house. He’s a friend of father’s, I’ll introduce you to him after dinner,” Draco murmured, to her as yet unasked question. 

Willow was about to reply, but Dumbledore was talking again. 

“There is only one more announcement to make, and that is a new addition to our staff. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be Rupert Giles.” 

A tall, lean man in the traditional black robes stood up, and they all clapped for him before he returned to his seat. Willow liked the look of him, sort of dangerous, like he’d actually fought the dark arts at one point in time, and sort of like a rock star, with the way his dark brown hair fell over his eyes and he shook his head to get it out of them. 

“Let the feast begin!” While she’d been cataloging the professor’s good qualities, the headmaster had finished and clapped his hands, and Willow was proud of the way she didn’t shriek, or jump, or gasp when food magically appeared on the tables before them. Thank you, Draco, she thought, staring at the spread before them. Chicken, beef, pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables of all sorts, she’d never seen so much food in her life. 

Eagerly she reached for chicken legs and mashed potatoes, carefully pouring gravy over the top as though it was her science fair project from the year before, ‘Tomato: Fruit or Vegetable?’ and Draco watched in amusement before filling his own plate with pork chops, sausages, and a huge spoonful of spinach that did make her gasp in amazement. 

“I thought boys didn’t like vegetables,” she said. “Xander hates them. More than he loves Twinkies, even, and that’s saying a lot.” 

“I’m not like other boys,” Draco replied. “And who’s Xander? And what’s a Twinkie?” 

“Of course you’re not,” Willow said. “And Xander is my best friend at home. And a Twinkie is like a pumpkin cake, only yellow. And with white filling, not orange.” 

“Do they taste like pumpkins?” 

While she pondered the question as to what they *did* taste like, the feast went on until everyone was stuffed to the gills and wondering if they could it to their respective dormitories before collapsing. The traces of food left over vanished, and all the plates were clean again. Nice. 

The headmaster rose, and as soon as he’d dismissed them all to bed, Draco had grabbed her hand and practically dragged her over to catch Professor Snape, who was suspiciously looking like he wanted to escape from the Great Hall, or to eviscerate something, she wasn’t sure. 

“Professor! Professor Snape!” 

The dark-haired man turned around, very much ready to whip his wand out and blast the ungrateful wretch of student that dared to call his name, but his face changed as he took in who it was. 

“Young Mr. Malfoy. With a new friend, I see. What can I do for the two of you?” His voice was low, rough, like dark toffee with scraps of gravel in it. 

“I just wanted to introduce you to Willow, Professor. She’s in Slytherin, too.” Draco was clearly excited at this man, and maybe not just because he was trying to curry favor. But maybe they had some kind of odd uncle/favorite nephew thing going on. 

“Hi, I’m Willow.” she said, extending her hand before she remembered that was a Muggle custom, and no one here was a Muggle. She pulled it back before anyone noticed her gaffe. 

“Delightful to meet you, Ms. Rosenberg. I’m quite sure you won’t be as dimwitted as my other new students. I will see you both at the house meeting.” Well, that was abrupt, Willow thought as her Potions teacher swept through the door behind the staff table, black robes billowing like Batman’s cape behind him. Giggling, she turned back to Draco, who was not smiling. 

“I’m not laughing at him, he just reminds me of something funny,” Willow defended as they ran to catch up with the other first years going down to the Slytherin dungeons for the first time. She explained to him about Batman and what his cape did, and he finally saw the joke and laughed, but there was a strange look in his eyes, as though he should have made sure no one could hear him before he did so. 

The prefect leading the group stopped them in front of a dank looking section of wall and turned around. “The password for this term is Slytherin Pride. Don’t give this out to anyone from the other houses. Slytherin Pride,” he said to the wall and it slid back, and they all walked into the wall and through a short tunnel to the common room, where most of the others from their house were gathered. 

“Professor Snape is our head of house, and will be along shortly to introduce himself and conduct a short house meeting, then you can all go to bed. Only the first years need to be present for this, but he does like it if everyone is there, so I would not advise leaving.” The prefect swept searchlight eyes around the room, but it didn’t look like anyone was going anywhere. 

Willow and Draco had just claimed one of the last empty chairs, Draco giving her the seat and perching on the arm, when Snape walked into the room.

“As you are all surely anxious to be off, I will make this short. My name is Severus Snape, I teach Potions, and I am head of Slytherin house. You might have heard rumors to the effect that I like no one in this school, and that I tend to favor my own house, and they would be correct. But make no mistake, I accept no less from anyone else than I do of you, and there will be swift punishment if anyone steps out of line. Is that clear?” 

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang through the room. 

“Good. I will see most of you in class tomorrow. Good night.” Professor Snape, having thoroughly terrified some of his new students, though why were they in Slytherin if they got frightened that easily, Draco didn’t really know or care; left the common room, and the noise level rose again to its previous decibels. 

“That was kind of harsh,” Willow said, leaning her head on the chair back. 

“That was Professor Snape,” Draco replied. “Are you tired?” 

“Yup. It’s been a extremely long couple of days, if you know what I mean.” And Draco did know what she meant, having been the shoulder that she cried on when he’d thrown Crabbe and Goyle out of the compartment and finally asked her what was really the matter. 

“You should go to bed, you know we all will be here in the morning,” Draco said, sliding off the chair. “You’re not Sleeping Beauty, you know.” 

Willow laughed. “But you said I was your princess,” she protested with a yawn. 

“And you are. But you’re Princess of Slytherin House, not some ugly bint with yellow hair who can’t manage to wake up for a hundred years. Now come on, you are tired, and you’re going to bed.” His tone brooked no argument. 

“Alright,” she sighed, letting him lead her to the section of the dungeons where the first years stayed were. “As long as you’ll still be my prince, Draco.” They walked along the doors until they found one with Willow Rosenberg on the brass nameplate and he left her there, with a promise that he would always be her prince first, Prince of Slytherin second.


	5. That Was A Huge Rush, Draco or Why The House Elves Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PG-13
> 
> Warnings: Schmoop. Really. That's all. 
> 
> Christmas, 1992
> 
> The Latin on Willow's gift is merely a translation of 'the fairy tale of slytherin'.

Willow Rosenberg, or Black, according to the Sorting Hat, sat in the middle of the very cold Astronomy Tower on Christmas Eve night, waiting for her prince to come. He wasn't really late, she was really early, but she was completely nervous about the present she’d gotten Millicent Bulstrode to persuade her mother to take them both into Knockturn Alley for during the first days of winter break. 

But she wasn't using this time to think about Draco, she was trying to distract her nerves and think of something else. Right, the recent secret events at school, which she only knew about because she and Draco had developed a nasty little habit of spying on the Boy Who Lived and his entourage, which, admittedly, was better than Draco getting into a fight every time Potter crossed his path. One of these days things would just explode, and Willow was betting that Draco was not going to be the one in bloody bits all over the stone walls. 

Turns out that the Gryffindors were searching for something called the Sorcerer’s Stone, whatever it was, and were failing miserably, which caused Draco no end of joy at the look of frustration on Potter’s face every single day. But it wasn’t any of their business, which she *kept* telling him, and he kept replying that he didn’t want to lose to Potter on any terms, especially not secrets of the school, which Draco knew more about than maybe even the Weasley twins, who were notorious troublemakers and no doubt would have been put into Slytherin if they weren’t such bloody Gryffindors. 

It only made things worse when they were both made Seekers on their respective houses Quidditch teams, and if that wasn’t a sport that she was actually good at, she didn’t know what was. Willow adored the feeling of freedom that riding a broom allowed her, and though Madam Hooch had said she was only a first year and Mr.’s Malfoy and Potter had only been allowed on by special dispensation, there was a strong possibility that she would be selected for next year’s team. Go her! If Xander could see her now, she thought, but was distracted by a low humming sound…no, someone was singing, and that was not Draco, she was sure of it. This voice was higher pitched, almost too high. 

She rose from the chair she was sitting in. “Hello? Who’s there?” she called out, and jumped visibly when a short, a very short creature appeared from the shadows. “You’re a house elf!” she said, and tried not to make it sound all accusing. 

The creature, female, she saw, though she didn’t know how she could tell, but it was something in the way she acted. “Yes, miss, that I am. My name is Lucinda. Might I ask, what you’re doing up here at this time of night?” Lucinda was a very old house elf, but not too old to be given clothes or have her head cut off. She took more liberties with the students than any of the other, more submissive elves. 

“I’m waiting for my friend,” Willow said, then added, “and my name’s Willow.” 

“Aren’t you a little young for that sort of thing, dearie?” Lucinda wasn’t stupid, by any means, and knew exactly what students came up here to do. 

“What?” Willow blushed as she got it, rather vividly, in her mind. “No, Draco and I are just friends!” 

Draco. She’d heard that name somewhere…”The Prince of Slytherin?” 

Willow perked up. “And I’m his princess, only not in the grown-up way, cause, way not ready here for that sort of thing.” 

“Well, that’s nice then, isn’t it? I’ll just be leaving the two of you alone, then.” Lucinda snapped her fingers, and suddenly Willow was alone, snatches of the house elf’s song in her head, as the door opened and Draco slipped through, carrying a small wrapped box. 

“What?” Draco said at Willow’s strange, befuddled look. “Did someone confundus you? Are you okay?” 

“Huh?” Willow said, her mind clearing, and staring up into Draco’s worried eyes. The boy who, she was a little ashamed to say, was rapidly filling Xander’s place in her life. She didn’t mind, but she didn’t want to lose Xander, either. “No, Draco, I’m fine. There was just a house elf…and she was singing.” 

“Oh, well then, you’re fine. No hallucinations.” Draco gracefully draped his lithe body across the sofa, and patted the seat next to him, sending Willow back in time four months, to when they’d first arrived and begun this friendship. “I don’t bite, you know.” 

“I know that,” she replied, dropping down next to him and crossing her legs as they faced each other. “Happy Christmas, Draco. I really hope you like it, because I’m pretty sure where I got it doesn’t do returns.” She handed him the oblong box, and took the small one he handed her. 

“Happy Christmas, Willow. And I know I’ll like it, I like anything you give me. But you know, you still have to buy me a birthday present.” 

“Not for another two months. Open it, already, I’m dying of curiosity.” 

“You first.” 

Willow sighed, a very put out gesture, and looked at the small box in her hands. Wrapped in silver paper, with diagonal slashes of Slytherin green ribbon, it was very pretty, and very Draco. Slowly, as had been her wont for years, she undid the ribbon and set it on the floor, then slid a fingernail under the tape holding the paper together. Encased in the pretty trappings was a black box, velvet, and she knew what kind of presents came in those sorts of boxes. Jewelry. Her heart thudded in her chest, and before she opened it, she looked up at Draco. 

He heard her protest before she said it, and cut it off at the pass. “It’s not that kind of present. It’s a best friend present, because you are my best friend, Willow.” 

Reassured, she opened the box and tried to stop the “Oh, Draco, it’s gorgeous!” girly shriek before it came out, but failed, and apparently he didn’t mind at all, judging from the huge grin splitting his features in half. 

The bracelet was silver, extraordinarily beautiful and shiny silver, an ID bracelet, luminous on that silver chain meant to go around her wrist. 

“Turn it over,” Draco whispered, as if he didn’t want to break the enraptured spell she was under. 

Willow complied, and her eyes filled with tears at the inscription in Latin, seeing as how that was the only other language she knew, and he was teaching it to her. 

_mediocris fabula of slytherin_ – The Fairy Tale of Slytherin

“Oh, wow, Draco, this is so much better than what I got you,” Willow said, leaning across and hugging him tightly. 

He hugged back, more than happy, he could care less what she got him at this point. “Well, we are, you know. The older students are taking bets on how long we stay friends before the inevitable tension between us grows potent and explodes all over the dungeons.” 

“That’s kind of…well,” Willow stopped and actually thought about it for a second. She could see her and Draco as Head Boy and Girl in a few years, holding hands, doing…other stuff she absolutely never thought about, getting married…and all in all it was a very shmoopy, though not unpleasant image of their future. She grinned wickedly in an entirely Slytherin manner. “So we have a couple of years before this all comes to pass, right? So we find out who we like, and who we don’t like, and we rig the odds. Or, we could just make a huge under the table bet and keep all the money for ourselves.” 

One eyebrow raised, “You are wicked, aren’t you? And where did you learn about betting, my sheltered muggle-raised Princess?” 

“Internet.” Willow said, then drew his attention back to her present still sitting his lap. “Now open that, I wanna know if you like it.” 

“Okay, I’ll let it go, for now, but you are going to give me a much better answer than that one of these days.” 

“Right, that can be your birthday present. Just open it, Draco!” 

Finally, he moved to unwrap his gift, much less prettily wrapped than hers, you can’t get wrapping paper to cover something like *that* neatly, so she’d used butcher paper instead. It’s waxy, so it kind of reflects the light, right? 

“Oh my god, Willow, where did you get this?” He was stunned, all right. And how did she…oh, yeah, over the three-day break between fall and winter term they’d gone to Malfoy Manor, and he’d shown her the one his father owned, and mentioned coveting it. 

One very rare dark arts item, one that was probably, hell, who was he kidding, they wouldn’t even allow this at Durmstrang, definitely not allowed here. Not that anyone knew about it…wait a minute. “Willow, how did you get this?” 

Her face fell, he didn’t like it. “I went with Millicent and her mother to Knockturn Alley at the beginning of break. You hate it, don’t you?” 

“No, Willow, I love it, I was just…the kind of shop you get this in, well, it wouldn’t be very safe for you. And I do worry about you, you know.” 

“Yeah, right, you just know you can’t pass Transfiguration without me.” 

“Well, that too.” He conceded the point to her, one in their seemingly never ending battle of one-upmanship. Current score: Draco 237, Willow 349. He wasn’t losing that badly, just yet. But he shook his head and turned back to his present, tossing the paper over the couch and holding the artifact in his hands. 

It was similar to a Hand of Glory, except it wasn’t in the shape of a hand, and it didn’t give off light, so then again, maybe it wasn’t similar at all. It was L-shaped, meant to fit in the palm of one’s hand, and gave off a trigger to whoever it was attuned to whether or not there were people who intended to harm you about. Like an early warning system, so to speak. He knew that Voldemort had owned one, before he’d gone kablooey because of Harry Potter, and that one was currently sitting in one of the Malfoy treasure rooms, heavily guarded and booby-trapped. Draco had heard rumors that another one or two existed, but they had to be bloody expensive. 

But it was rude to ask how much one’s gift cost the giver, so he just let his excitement at owning one show when he looked up at her again. “I love it. Come in real handy when Potter’s around. Be going off constantly.” 

“Then you’ll always be prepared, won’t you? So you really like it?” So she was a silly little girl who needed more reassurance than ‘I love it’ from her best friend. 

“Willow, I love it. Really. No one usually remembers what I tell them anyway, unless it’s never to piss me off or never go up against an Sicilian when death is on the line. That’s what makes you special.” 

Willow was pretty much stuck in awww mode before what else he’d said kicked in. “Aww, that’s sweet, Draco.” He thinks I’m special, woo hoo! Wait a minute… “You’ve seen the Princess Bride?” 

Draco shrugged artlessly. “Hasn’t everyone?” 

“Not most of the wizards I know, which admittedly isn’t very many, but still. You watch Muggle films. I have blackmail material now!” Willow giggled. 

“No, you really don’t, unless you *don’t* want to spend Boxing Day with me watching Muggle films in my own private screening room.” Draco had intended to keep it a secret and spring it on her then, but this was as good a time as any to make her happy. 

“Really? K, no blackmailing here. Willow’s keeping her mouth shut. Ooh, we can watch the Princess Bride, and Dirty Dancing, and Ladyhawke, and Casablanca, and Cinderella, and —“ 

“Quite a selection, there, luv. Got anything to tell me about your secret movie watching habits?” Draco cocked an eyebrow. 

“I just happen to like movies where they end up happily ever after, is all. I’m romantic. And don’t do that.” Willow hated that he could do that one eyebrow thing and she couldn’t. But he’d already gotten his point for that. 

“Sorry,” Draco said, and smirked instead. He knew good and well it irked her that she couldn’t raise one eyebrow and not the other like he could. “And I’ve only seen it once, but I don’t think Casablanca has a good ending, Willow.” 

“Yeah, she should have gone with him at the end, but I like it anyway. Can we watch it too?”

“We can watch three of yours and three of mine,” Draco compromised. She named off the first three of her favorites, and they shook on it before she yawned. 

“You’re knackered. I’m surprised you didn’t fall asleep and hallucinate that house elf earlier.” 

“Sorry,” Willow smothered another yawn with her hand. “I swear, you aren’t boring, it’s just I’m so tired lately. I mean, half the year is gone already and I feel like I just blinked and we’re here. It’s been a huge rush for me, Draco, all the magic, and the studying, and all. Now I think it’s finally caught up with me, and my body wants to spend the next week asleep.” 

“You can’t do that,” Draco objected. “Well, you could, as we’re on holiday, but who would keep me company?” 

“You are so needy,” Willow needled him. “and we both have other friends in the house. We could be a little more social with them.” 

“Yes, but then I’d have to spend hours on end trying not to kill them because they’re all so damn monotonous all the time. Crabbe and Goyle are a shining example compared to some of them.” 

“And yet most of us still manage to pass our classes. How can that be?” Willow said, standing up and stretching. 

“It’s a gift,” Draco snarked. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. 

Willow narrowed her gaze. The last deal she made with him left her utterly blue and spending a weekend in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey tried to get her skin back to the normal color. “Should I even ask?” She gathered up their papers and banished his, she wanted to keep the pretties that Draco had given her, and not just the bracelet. Speaking of, she retrieved the fallen trinket and laid it on her wrist. “Can you do this up for me before you make me agree to this deal?” 

“Of course,” he said, reaching up smooth hands to fasten the claw clasp and examine the results with pride. “It looks good on you.” 

“You realize, though, that now that you’ve given me jewelry, everyone will think we’re dating.” 

Draco snorted. “Not likely, a pair of first years getting a leg over in the Astronomy Tower,” he said, then realized what he said, in front of Willow, no less. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” he tried backpedaling. 

“I forgive you, and you are right, though.” She laughed. “Now tell me about this deal of yours.” 

Draco stood up and slid his own gift into the pocket of his robes, where it tingled comfortingly as it attuned itself to his touch. “You get to sleep all day tomorrow, except for dinner, *and* you can sleep as much as you want for the rest of vacation, but I want you all to myself on Boxing Day for a little movie fest. No agreeing to help Millicent with last minute essays, no wandering off to anywhere unless your with me. Oh, and that you go skating with me this weekend.” 

“That’s quite a lot that I have to do, Mr. Malfoy. What exactly do I get out of this deal?” 

“Movies and the pleasure of my company for a whole day, and I’ll even teach you how to skate.” He waggled his brows in a fair impression of Groucho Marx. “Oh, and sleep,” he added as an after thought. 

She laughed. “So kind of you to include that in the offer. I accept. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d love it if you’d walk me back to the dungeons, seeing as how you have to sleep tonight too. Is your mother coming to the feast tomorrow?” 

Draco’s face darkened. “No, she and father are going somewhere else for the day. But I expect I’ll see my usual stack of presents in the morning, containing everything that was on my list, nothing more, nothing less.” 

Willow’s heart ached at the way the Malfoys treated their only son. But then again, her parents hadn’t been exactly welcoming her home with open arms, either, a letter had arrived two days before end of term saying that would she mind staying for Christmas, as they had a business conference to attend? They’d left a phone number, which coincidentally was the number for the King’s Palace Hotel, in Jamaica. Business conference, her arse. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We have each other, right?” She touched his arm, and he pulled her into a hug. 

“Always, princess, always.” 

He cast a Disillusionment charm on them both before they left, not having a handy invisibility cloak, and not daring to attempt making the rare potion that would make them invisible, Draco had bullied his father into teaching it to him on a Hogsmeade weekend, then he’d taught it to her, around Halloween, which was when the giant troll showed up. But that was a story for another night, Willow thought, as they headed for the dungeons.


	6. Bloody Gryffindors and Foolhardy Slytherins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes down to battle, who will come out on top? Will anyone? Is this fairy tale doomed to be like all the rest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An out of order chapter taking place in 5th year. Close to the end, but not quite yet.

Willow ran through the halls, frantically looking for her boyfriend, who was absolutely nowhere to be found. In desperation, she turned to the kitchens, and the only house elf that was still talking to her after last week’s fiasco. 

  
“Lucinda!” she cried, climbing into the hole, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

  
“My god, Willow, what’s wrong?” 

  
“I need you to find Draco for me and send him up to the Room of Requirement right away. It’s important, Lucy, please?” 

  
Lucinda bowed and popped away, and Willow raced back upstairs as though her very life depended on it, red hair streaming behind her like a bloody banner. 

  
Once on the seventh floor, she hurried down the hall to the piece of wall opposite the statue of someone getting clubbed by trolls in tutus, pacing back and forth, muttering, “I need a private place to talk to Draco, I need a private place to talk to Draco, I *really* need a private place to talk to Draco, dammit!” She turned to the wall and threw herself inside, shutting the door behind her, and kept pacing. 

  
Why did this have to happen now, of all times? Damn Voldemort, damn Harry Potter, and most of all, damn her father for putting her in this mess to begin with. “Draco!” she shouted, throwing herself into his arms as he hurried into the room. He caught her and set her down, but never letting her go. 

  
“God, Willow, what’s wrong? Lucy said you were crying, you’re still crying, what’s the matter, darling, whatever it is I swear I’ll kill it, I will, Unforgivable Curse or not, I won’t let it hurt you.” 

  
Willow was clutching at him, sobbing into his chest and he still couldn’t get more than panicked mumbles out of her. He pulled her face away from his shoulder and stared at her hysterical face. “I can’t fix it unless you talk to me, Willow, please.” 

  
She managed to slow her breathing and tears down a bit and explained to him what she had just seen on the castle grounds. The Potter Entourage, plus or minus a few, going off to rescue Sirius Black, her *dad* who was apparently in the Ministry of Magic under the control of Voldemort. And she’d be buggered if she let Potter save the damn day this time. 

  
“Alright, we’ll follow them, come on!” He grabbed her hand and they ran, ran faster than humanly possible down the stairs to the dungeons, to Snape’s office. Draco gave a hurried explanation as Willow tossed a handful of Floo Powder in the fireplace and waited impatiently for him, her tears long dried, giving way to a fiery hatred of Voldemort and would-be stupid Gryffindors risking their necks for people, completely ignoring the fact that she was about to do the same thing. 

  
“Go, I’ll follow with back-up as soon as I can,” Snape said, catching Draco in a quick hug and a “be careful” before shoving him in the direction of the fireplace Willow was already stepping in and saying “Ministry of Magic!” 

  
The office was empty before the Floo died out. 

  
*******

  
The foyer of the Ministry, however, was not empty. Sirius Black was facing off against Bellatrix Lestrange; a very strange looking Ron Weasley, a currently unconscious and possible dead Hermione Granger; and Luna Lovegood were trying to avoid sight by any death eaters, not to mention their bloody leader, and Harry ‘The Boy Who Lived’ Potter was facing off with Voldemort, with Neville Longbottom as his only magical back-up. 

  
Things were not going well. 

  
“Come on, now, Harry, we’re not so very different, you and I,” Voldemort sneered, as he and Harry circled around the fountain of Magical Brethren. “Both abandoned by our families, we don’t like to follow rules, even our wands are very similar.” 

  
“We are nothing alike!” Harry shouted, as something hissed behind him in the line of fireplaces along the wall, alerting anyone who cared to an incoming floo. Quite inconvenient , but then again, no one was really paying attention as Voldemort shot another stream of green light towards his nemesis, and Harry actually felt the need to dive, seeing as how his shield wouldn’t exactly hold up to that. Fortunately Neville had been on the ball with one of the statues from the fountain, and he escaped damage. Again.

  
Harry vaguely heard, “Bloody Gryffindors!” from behind him before a red hurricane shoved him directly into Neville’s hiding place, and took his place as the wrath magnet for Voldemort. 

  
“What are you doing here?” the Dark Lord asked, a little surprised at the turn of events. 

  
“Taking back my life,” Willow spat and aimed her wand, screaming, “CRUCIO!” loud enough to shatter glass. She didn’t care if it was unforgivable, she didn’t care that she was standing in the middle of the damn Ministry, this man had stolen her life from her before she’d even had a choice, and after that too. He would die. Painfully. 

  
Then Voldemort was screaming, and it was all too much for Harry, who passed out and missed the rest of the evening’s fun. 

  
Luna watched in shock, and a little bit of malicious glee as the redheaded 5th year Slytherin whose name she knew, everybody knew the Princess of Slytherin, and there was her Prince, the incredible hot Draco Malfoy, standing at her back, his wand trained on the only awake or not captured death eater in the room, the reason they were all here, apparently, torturing his future father-in-law. Not acceptable, not acceptable at all. He shot a stunning hex at her long enough for her to release Sirius from his own version of Cruciatus hell, and he dropped to the ground, miraculously still on his feet, and scanned the room, assessing the situation. 

  
“Accio wand!” he shouted, and it flew into his hand from Bellatrix’s robes, and while she was stunned he took the opportunity to bind her and then stun her again, just for the sheer bloody hell of it. Then he turned to more pressing matters, namely his daughter fighting Voldemort. What the fuck? 

  
“Willow!” he shouted, then chastised himself. Not in the middle of a fight to the death, he snapped silently. But she was doing just fine on her own, deflecting every hex sent at her and managing to land a few good blows on her own. Draco was at her back, as he should be, Sirius thought wryly. Never thought he’d be saying or thinking that anytime soon. 

  
Just as it looked like Willow was on the losing end of things, there was a loud pop, and the entire room froze as seven people apparated onto the battlefield. Sirius would have cheered, had it not been so undignified at the time. 

  
The Order, what they could assemble of it in time. Dumbledore at the head, then flanking him Snape, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Lupin, and, amazingly enough, Mundungus. 

  
Everyone except Dumbledore spread out, checking on the students and making sure they were safe. Luna pointed them in the direction of the other death eaters, and Sirius headed for Willow and got her and Draco out of the line of fire, seeing as how Voldemort was currently occupied with a very powerful, very pissed off Dumbledore. 

  
Their fight was worthy of great wars, and this had been one of them, but it was over now, Dumbledore having repressed his apparent need for justice over sheer hatred, and killed the shadow that hung over everyone’s life for the past twenty-five years, periods of supposed death notwithstanding. Voldemort was dead, and they could finally begin to rebuild what he had started to destroy so many years ago. 

  
Dumbledore knelt over the body, and wondered what had happened to the inquisitive, bright first year he had once known as Tom Riddle. He shed tears for the boy Voldemort had been, not the monster he became. 

  
And yes, exactly at this opportune moment, Ministry officials began showing up, a little too late, but better late than never; from Cornelius Fudge down to Arthur Weasley, who had been on a mission for the Order which was useless now, he thought, taking in the scene around him with shock. 

  
“What is going on here?” Fudge bellowed, taking in the confusion around him with a not-so-practiced eye. His gaze fell on the downed body of the formerly Lord Voldemort, and he choked on his next words. “Dumbledore, I demand an explanation for this!” 

  
“And you shall have it,” Albus said, taking out a pocket watch and looking at it. “In exactly thirty minutes time. For now, this will suffice. Lord Voldemort was indeed alive, as both Harry and I have been telling you for one year. He is now dead, by my hand. Further explanations must wait, I am afraid. If you would be so kind as to meet me in my office, I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. As do you, since I believe you will find several escaped death eaters and others who have not yet been apprehended around the building. I will see you in thirty minutes.” 

  
Fudge was left spluttering, “What? Death Eaters in the ministry? Voldemort, what?” as Dumbledore scanned the room, making eye contact with each of the Order members and having a powerful conversation through eye contact alone. He then walked to where Willow and Draco were standing with Sirius. 

  
“Might I ask to see all of you in my office one hour from now? I believe you will all find it enlightening.” Sirius nodded, as Willow seemed incapable of speech, and Draco was busy consoling her at the moment. 

  
Striding across the room, robes billowing, he knelt down beside Harry and Neville. “Enervate,” he whispered, and Harry’s eyes opened. “Professor, what, Voldemort –“ 

  
“Is no more, Harry. Are you in much pain, Neville?” 

  
The other teen shook his head. 

  
“You should see Poppy when you get back to the castle, at any rate. Harry, I know you want answers, but tonight is not a time that I am prepared to give them to you. If you come to my office tomorrow, or the next day, I shall be a little more able.” 

  
Harry nodded, still shell-shocked from the night’s happenings. 

  
“Members of the Order will take you back to school, but I must go now. Harry, remember what I said. Neville, you were very brave tonight, and proved your worth as a Gryffindor beyond anyone’s doubt.” 

  
Neville blushed. The headmaster rose and left them to Lupin, who would be their escort back to Hogwarts. Then he looked at his watch again, sighed heavily, and disapparated with a pop. 

 


End file.
